


Snow Day

by janto321 (FaceofMer)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bottom Sherlock Holmes, Doctor John Watson, Domestic, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Snow Day, Top John Watson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-05
Updated: 2014-03-05
Packaged: 2018-01-14 15:08:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1270993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaceofMer/pseuds/janto321
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John's home from work due to the snow, and Sherlock is bored</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snow Day

London was snowed in. Work had already told John not to come in. He sat in his chair, a cup of tea close at hand as he read a journal. Sherlock puttered in the kitchen with some experiment he was trying to not think too much about. The city sounds were muted; few cars dared the streets. The loudest noise was the fireplace, warding off the chill.

Something shattered in the kitchen. John was on his feet in an instant. Sherlock was wrapping his hand in a fortunately clean towel and trying to clean up glass at the same time. John caught his wrists. "Let me see."

Sherlock huffed, but allowed the doctor to look. A nasty slice tore across the side of his palm. "I'll stitch that up; go hold your hand over the sink while I get my kit."

Sherlock obeyed, muttering, while John ran upstairs. He spoke up as John returned.  "The cold made the glass more fragile. I should have anticipated..."

"Accidents happen," John worked quickly and efficiently. "Least it wasn't your eyebrows this time."

"At least my Doctor happened to be home," John blushed a bit as he felt Sherlock watching him.

"Thank the weather for that." John finished up and kissed Sherlock's cheek. "I'll clean up the glass."

"Very well." Sherlock went out to the front room, taking his tea with him. John was mindful not to disrupt too much of the experiment as he cleaned up the mess. He washed his hands again, ran a hand through his hair and went back to the front room. Sherlock was stretched out on the couch.

"It's very quiet," remarked Sherlock.

"Whole city is shut down because of the weather," John picked up his mug and sat down by Sherlock's feet. The detective huffed again and turned around so his head was in John's lap. John smiled down at him.

Sherlock curled up around him, forehead against John's belly. John ran a hand through his curls. "Does your hand hurt? I can give you something for the pain."

"It's fine," mumbled Sherlock.

"All right," John lapsed into silence, picking up the nearest magazine as he continued idly playing with Sherlock's hair. He felt the detective start to fall asleep, but made no effort to move him.

Suddenly Sherlock jerked awake. "Hey, you okay?" John frowned.

Sherlock sat up and wrapped his arms around his knees. "Just a dream," he said, looking into the distance.

John reached over for his uninjured hand. Sherlock stood and walked over the coffee table. "Too quiet."

"Do you want to turn the telly on?" asked John, watching the gathering storm clouds on his face.

Sherlock shook his head and stalked towards his bedroom. John sighed, debated with himself a minute, then drained the last of his tea and followed him. "Sherlock?"

The detective had burrowed under the covers. John climbed in next to him and rubbed his back until he rolled over, cupped his face and kissed him.

John smiled. "I'm right here."

Sherlock shimmied down the bed, kissing his belly as he opened John's jeans. John chuckled. "Bit bored?"

"Perhaps," he kissed him through his pants, making his cock stir.

John pushed his jeans down and tossed them on the floor, then peeled off his shirt. Sherlock squeezed his hips and moved up to kiss him. John rolled him onto his back and kissed him deeply, tongue lazily exploring his mouth.

Sherlock moaned, pushing down his own bottoms before squeezing John's shoulder. His hand found John's cock and he started slowly stroking him. John broke the kiss, resting his forehead against Sherlock's a moment before going back to kissing him.

John grabbed the lube from next to the bed and started fingering Sherlock. He spread his legs for him with a groan. John smiled at him. "You're so good for me," he said quietly.

"And you for me," admitted Sherlock.

John studied his eyes a moment, then wrapped a hand in his hair and gave him a searing kiss. Sherlock let go of his cock and ran his hand up his back. "Take me," he panted.

John moved between his thighs. He nibbled his neck as he slowly sank inside his lover. Sherlock wrapped his legs around him, encouraging him deeper, one arm around his back, the other lying on the bed. John turned his head and kissed the fingers of his injured hand, taking him slowly, sweating under the blankets.

Sherlock rocked up to meet him, for once not minding a slow pace. Their breath was hot as it mingled, hearts beating together. John lost track of time, his sole focus on the man underneath him.

Finally though, Sherlock shifted and whimpered, close. John raised himself up and stroked him off, watching his lover fall apart, coming incoherently. He squeezed as he and came, and, with a groan, John followed Sherlock over.

Rolling to the side, John lay on his back. Sherlock curled up around him, trailing his fingers through his chest hair. John kissed the top of his head. They needed snow days more often. 

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me at [merindab.tumblr.com.](http://merindab.tumblr.com/)


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